


People Are People

by CavannaRose



Series: Walking Dead Fics [3]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Death, Family, Gen, Guns, Knives, Merle Dixon Being an Asshole, Misogyny, Mother-Son Relationship, Negotiations, Promises, Racist Language, Racist Merle Dixon, Seriously not even sure where this is going, Slow Burn, Swearing, Will add tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-02-14 18:23:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13013538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavannaRose/pseuds/CavannaRose
Summary: Kind of pre- and then into The Walking Dead. This is a story about a group that started in a city, and tries to make their own way. A lot of familiar faces are going to pop in and out. Non-canon compliant. Currently rated T for language.





	1. Southern Man

They said the cities were hit the hardest. Too many bodies all piled up against one another. Too many soft folks with digital skills instead of practical. Hardly anyone knew how to really make any of the crap they needed. Machines existed for a reason. The world just didn't cater to those that worked with their hands... until it did. The soft city drones fled, right into the hungry mouths of the walking dead.

It was funny, you could remember the time before, sitting around a food court with friends, laughing over your 'zombie apocalypse' plan. Movies and comics, making the whole idea seem like some ridiculous flight of fancy. No one suspected. No one really thought... and those few that did? Crackpots, you called them. Paranoid. Well who was laughing now? Not them, because turns out the things you all thought would help, didn't. The dead didn't care if you could start a fire with sticks or camouflage under leaves. They'd sniff you out just as fast, drawn by the sound of the blood pumping in your veins.

You certainly weren't prepared. Even the lowest points of your life hadn't taught you quite how to manage the situation. Still, attention to detail and a mixed bag of tools from a life lived interesting gave you a personal arsenal better than some. Getting out of the city wasn't going to happen, not for a while yet. There were too many decaying maws blocking the path just yet. Still, there were options. You kept high, working the apartment buildings from the top down, watching the herds and timing your moves just right.

One by one you cleared the buildings, picking up a stray here and there as you did so. Weekend woodsman who knew the right side of a rifle to point and how to skin a deer. Lucky bastards with quick feet and keen eyes. Even a bloke in a wheelchair whose grim determination and tough-as-nails wife refused to lay down and give in. Maybe they weren't much to look at, but they were yours. You'd saved them, and they'd saved you right back. None of you were fighters, but you were survivors, and that's what really mattered these days, or so you thought. It was a bond tighter than family, but even families pick up a rotten egg here and there.

The trouble started when the brothers joined up. The quiet one with the crossbow wasn't a problem. He was polite, kept to himself and did what was asked, but his brother pushed you right to your boiling point. Was it possible for any asshole to really be that vulgar and offensive, or was he doing it on purpose to get under your skin? Whatever it was... things were about to come to a head.

"Merle Dixon! You fucking come down here right now!" Shouting in the hallway was drawing more attention than necessary, but fuck it all. You were pissed, and you didn't care who knew it. The bloody redneck took his time, eventually emerging in a stained wife beater and ripped jeans, feet bare and a half eaten protein bar in his hand.

"Ya got your panties in a twist this mornin', baby girl, or ya just hot ta see me?" he drawled, giving you that slow once over that made you want to strangle him. Fucking prick.

"I swear to fuck, Merle, you are cruising for eviction. Do you want to explain exactly what happened this morning, or should I just take Chris and Jamiel's side as fact and boot you right here and now?" Your eyes flashed with the barely controlled rage. The man's intolerance was really starting to fracture the group, and Chris and Jamiel were such a sweet young couple. If it was a choice between them and the Dixons, you knew what side you were on, even if Merle and Daryl were tough and good at their jobs.

Merle spat, a habit that made you wrinkle your nose in disgust, not that he seemed to care. "Look what ever the crip and his little coloured bitch had to say, I ain't done nuthin' to threaten your precious family." He leaned against the jamb of the door, crumpling up his wrapper and tossing it at his feet.

Breathe. You remind yourself. Inhaling slowly, counting to five. Don't let him rile you. You're in charge here, be in charge. "Are you really going to pull that fucking racist, able-ist language on me right now, Dixon? As if you're not in the line of fire for your behaviour already? We work together, that's how we survive. If somehow that's not good enough for you, you're welcome to move on and find another group that better suits your beliefs, or lack thereof." You're doing your best not to yell, but damned if your voice doesn't keep rising. A couple members of the family behind you exchange looks, you usually keep it together better than this, but Dixon had crawled all over your last nerve.

"I work together just fine, but I ain't jumpin' down into a mess of Walkers just to drag some asshole with fucked up legs out of the fire. That ain't in my fucking job description. An' I'll be fucked if I let my idiot brother do it neither. It ain't my nevermind you wanna drag dead weight around, but we all know it's a fucking waste of time and resources."

The idiot was running his mouth like he knew something, but it just nettled you further, and keeping your temper was almost impossible. "That's what the group does. They are part of this fucking family, and they pull their weight. We all have strengths that make the whole stronger, but your bad fucking attitude and rude ass are fucking shit up. I don't like it when shit gets fucked up. This is your last warning, Dixon. One more incident, and I don't care how good a shot you and your brother are, you're out."

It didn't surprise you when they were gone in the morning, Merle hated taking orders from a female right from the start. Fucking redneck. Still, you were down two, and that left your perimeter week. Running a hand over your exhausted face, you tried to focus, shuffling things around on the duty roster. There was no way around, you were going to have to give ground. Your balance was so thinly stretched that you couldn't hold this much territory even with two men gone.

Chris wheeled up beside you, his soft voice interrupting your troubled thoughts. "We've pretty much exhausted the resources on the west flank, so we can bring that in closer without losing much more than territory. The only folks settling out there are the perimeter guards, and I'm sure they'd be more than happy to tuck in closer to the main squat, particularly since that puts them closer to the food." He gave you a warm smile, the one that made you envy Jamiel just a little bit more than you should.

Chris had been an accountant, before the world went to shit, but that was just after his accident. Before that he'd been an athlete, an avid hunter, and a construction worker. It was that knowledge that you drew from him now. It blew your mind that there were still people like Merle Dixon who couldn't see past the wheelchair and understand exactly how much Chris did for the group. Without him, it was unlikely your barriers would stay up. His building expertise kept the undead out of your chosen home. Not only that, but he had a great head for tactics, something you were relying on more and more.

Just then his wife plopped herself down on the seat beside you, curls bouncing as she grinned at her man. "How's it going, boss? Chris being a help or a hindrance?" Jamiel was always close behind her husband. She'd confided to you that she'd been like that since his accident, even before the world ended. Anything he couldn't do for himself, and that wasn't much, she was always there to do for him. The pair made a seamless team, and they were the backbone of your family. The warm centre. That was why you were willing to ditch Dixon just for pissing with them.

"Chris is always a help, but today he's outdone himself. I think he's found my solution to the Dixon's exodus, which means I can finally get some sleep. Jams, you're in charge until I wake up." Shooing you away with a cheery grin, Jamiel settled down with Chris to plan the shift in borders while you stumbled down the hall to your quarters. Finally you were gonna get some shuteye, trusting that your friends would have the rest figured out by the time you got up again.


	2. Turning Home

Upon awakening you felt significantly better about Chris' suggestion. Long-term survival meant that eventually your group would have to make it out of the city, so closing off section towards the city centre and focusing on stretching towards the city limits was always going to have to happen. This was just phase one, and eventually, you'd all be past the hordes of shamblers and somewhere with a patch of dirt. Somewhere you could grow your own food.

Running a baby wipe over you in attempt to eliminate the tacky feeling of dried sweat, you paused to stare into the mirror. A year gone by, and it was amazing what that did to a body. Gone was the softness that once stared back at you. Instead it was all hard lines, angular cheekbones and a hungry look that would have frightened the person you used to be. Starvation and fear and squeezed you into something hard and angry, but it kept you alive. That person staring back at you? Nothing could crush them, not even the end of the world. Pulling on a fresh t-shirt and your old jeans, finishing the look off with the combat boots that you'd stolen from a dead man, and you were ready. Time to check in with Jams and Chris and see how the plans were going.

Out in the main hub of the squat, activity had picked up. People were going back and forth, barely pausing to shoot you a greeting. Bless Jams, she'd gotten it all started already. You flagged down a slender redhead, asking her where you could find your right hand pair. "Chris is over by the eastern apartments, organizing the relocation of Brie and Adrienne, Jams is down helping to build the new western barricade closer in." Nodding a thank you, you took off to check in with Jamiel.

Short as she was, it was harder to find that head of curly hair in the bustle, but finally you found her, commanding the troops like a proper general. A smile pulled up the corner of your lip as you watched for a moment, waiting for her sharp eyes to pick you out of the crowd. Sure enough, she spotted you a minute later, calling a last few orders before making her way to your side. "I figured we'd expend the extra resources to leave the old barriers up. Add a second line of defense since we're all but abandoning this line. I'll have the gals lay down traps through this whole no man's land before we seal everything off." Jamiel gave you a toothy grin, and you pitied any fool who would attempt this passage after the "gals" were done.

Speak of the devil... a pair of hijab-wrapped heads appeared around the corner, twinkling brown eyes barely visible over a stacks of tightly rolled barbed wire and who knew what else. Sisters-by-marriage in the time before, the two had shown astonishing creativity and versatility when it came to booby traps and other means of discouraging interlopers. For a moment they paused, the elder tilting her head to one side, silently asking if you needed their immediate attention. Waving a negative, you let them get on with their work. Fuck if you weren't lucky as hell that they'd found you.

Clearly everything here was taken care of, so with a last exchange of compliments for Jamiel, you headed back towards the hub, taking a left just before you got there and going up a level to what was really precious to your people... the nursery. Here was where you spent as much time as possible. They were the future, and there were so few of them left. There were five children in the nursery right now, ranging in ages from 2 to 13. The oldest, Gil, would be moving out of the nursery next month when he turned 14, and he was itching for the opportunity. So ready to grow up, even if you weren't quite ready for that yet.

Catching sight of you, he jogged over, the smallest on his hip. He was more the unofficial assistant here than a charge these days, another sign that he was ready to be moved to more adult tasks. "Hey. Everything all right out there? There's a lot of movement and Seamus has been fussing because of the noise."

Holding out your arms you took the cranky toddler, smiling gently into his big blue eyes before meeting Gil's worried ones. "Nothing to fuss about, my lad. Had a dust up with the older Dixon so he took him and his brother off to greener pastures. We're tightening the western flank to compensate for the loss." There was no point treating him like a child, not when he asked such wise questions. That was one of the rules for your group. An honest question gets an honest answer, regardless of who among you did the asking. There just wasn't room in the world to baby anyone who was ready for more.

Gil thought about it for a moment, and you admired the young man's thoughtfulness. He was a smart kid, strong and tall for his age, and always helpful. Such a change from when you'd found him six months ago. He'd been on his own, practically feral, with a temper that could send a full grown man running. He'd mellowed so much, matured. It seemed like a short time in retrospect, but the world had ended, and everything had to adjust it's schedule to match, even growing up. Holding out an arm, you gave the boy a quick hug, noticing how much taller than you he was getting. "I'm glad they're gone." Gil piped up finally. "Daryl was good stock, but that Merle wasn't going to be anything but trouble."

"I agree, and I'm glad you approve. Did you know you were growing again? I want you to check in with Aja some time this week to make sure you're getting enough to eat. Improper nutrition right now could really mess you up later." The boy chuckled, leaning down to kiss your cheek affectionately before pulling away, turning to pick up another youngster demanding to be lifted.

"Don't fuss like a mother hen, you know I get enough to eat or I wouldn't be growing at all. Go read with Rhys for awhile, I gotta take the babies through to Megan for nap time." You winced, knowing how much Megan hated baby duty, but Gil grinned. "Hey, it's her own fault she got to the sign up roster late."


	3. Betrayal is a Symptom

As you and Rhys struggled through the weird adventures of someone called Captain Underpants, young Gil rounded up the other toddler in the group, Seamus' three year old sister, Rozenwyn. With a goodnight kiss to each of the 'babies', he brought them through to the much-aggrieved Megan in the next room. Despite all her complaining about the task, and her dislike of the 'small creatures' (her words, not yours), the petite brunette had a knack with the Littles (that one was your word), and soon there was no sound but her soft humming from the baby room.

That left you with Rhys, Gil, and five year old Raven, a quiet child, though stubborn enough to have decided she did not nap anymore. She rarely said a word from the time she arrived in the nursery until Aja collected her at the end of the day. When she had joined the group, the brusque nurse had two children, Raven and a girl named Ahri who was just about Gil's age. The loss of Ahri was why the rules regarding the children had become so strict, and why they were confined to the nursery above the bustle of the sprawling Complex.

The distinctive pop-pop-pop of gunfire interrupted your lessons with Rhys, and suddenly Gil was at your side, Raven's hand clutched in his own. Your face was pale, but you did your best to remain calm, to not upset the children. The younger boy stood, putting his book away neatly on the shelf and taking the wet-eyed five-year-old's other hand. Gil looked surprisingly stoic, despite the implications of the sounds echoing up from below.

"Momma, I think that was over by the North block. We'll go stay with the babies, and send Megan to find Jamiel for you."

Shaking your head you stood, galvanized into action by the boy's steady presence.Taking one of your knives and it's sheathe from your thigh, you strapped it carefully to the boy's much slimmer leg. "Take care of the Littles. If things go ugly... you're their last line of defense."

Surprising you, Rhys held out a hand to you, eyes resolute. "Me too, Auntie."

You took a moment to weigh the situation. Both boys had training in combat, though Rhys had just started. It was necessary for survival, but giving a weapon to a ten year old? How much innocence did you preserve at the expense of safety, and how much did you lose justifying the conditions of the world? Another round of rapid gunfire split the silence, deciding the matter for you. Unstrapping another knife, you handed it to the boy, handle first. "Gil us your Commander until myself or one of the other adults returns. If you don't follow his orders, he will confiscate your blade and demote you back to baby. This isn't about glory or heroics, it is about keeping those smaller than you safe. Understood?"

Wrapping small fingers around the leather-wrapped hilt, he nodded silently. Releasing Raven's hand for the barest moment, he strapped the sheathe to his belt, then gathered up the younger girl, freeing Gil to move uninhibited. The three small figures disappeared through the door, and for a moment you could only watch the portal they had passed through, worrying if you had made the right decision.

Another blast of gunfire shocked you back from your musings and mental recriminations. That was your cue to joint the fray if ever there had been one, and you took off in the opposite direction from where the children had headed, towards the stairs. Pulling your nine gauge from it's holster at the small of your back, you settled into a full run. Whomever had come to fuck up your day was going to die. That was just the way of the world now.

What you encountered when you reached the Northern Defensive Block was complete carnage. You could feel your throat close up at the horror before you. Bodies, some wearing faces you knew, were sprawled across either side of the defensive barriers. Bullet holes decorated the corpses, some wounds still smoking in the dim light coming from a shattered window. You ducked as another burst of shots rang out, Aja grabbing your arm to pull you behind cover, her face solemn.

"It's Merle," she explained, reloading her shotgun with the ease of long practice, :he's got himself a group of raiding assholes, and he keeps shouting your name like some psychotic fucking Romeo."

You reached across, offering her one of the shells that fell to the floor between the two of you. "Raven is safe. Gil and Rhys are armed, and we are going to deal with this rat bastard. I promise." Her smile was unsure, but grim.

A familiar voice shouted your name across the battlefield, and risking the bullets that kept flying between the two sides you stood, signalling your men and women to ceasefire for the parlay. "What do you want, Dixon, you scum-sucking asshole?"

The redneck stood, face coloured by the sun, several days growth of stubble covering his strong chin, clothing dirtier than when you'd seen him last. He smiled brightly at you across the distance, and you did your best not to recoil in response. "Well ain't that a pretty how-dee-doo. No 'Hello Merle, how has being abandoned in a zombie-infested wasteland treated you?' Not even a question about my beloved brother? Where are your manners, babygirl?"

You glared back, not willing to play the man's game. "I save courtesy for those I like, and even then if they came through my home and blew holes in my people, I wouldn't like them anymore regardless of their reasoning. Tell us what you want and get out of here, or I swear I will empty every bullet I have aiming for that shriveled little heart of yours, I don't care how small a target that would be."

"You wound me girl!"

"I wish. What the fuck do you want, Dixon."

Merle furrowed his brow, glaring at you. "What I want is your supplies, your fortifications, and you. But I'll settle for two outta three, you can pick which ones, I'm feeling generous. I know how many people you got at your disposal, girlie, but more, I know you ain't willing to throw them at me forever. Take your pick, ya got an hour to decide and I'm coming back to make the decision for you."

With that Dixon actually turned his back on you, signalling his troops to retreat. You watched them go, anger burning in your stomach as Aja rose to stand beside you, aiming down her barrel. "I could just shoot him here and now, be done with this."

The temptation was strong, but you put your hand on the barrel of her shotgun, lowering it just as Jamiel and Megan came huffing around the corner. You gave them a few minutes to absorb the scene they encountered, but not too long. Mourning would be for later. What needed to be done now was to think.

"Fill them in." Though your words were curt, Aja understood, stepping past you to explain Merle's oh-so-generous offer to the other two as you stepped beyond the defensive barriers. Holstering your gun, you pulled your last knife, driving it through the eye of the nearest body. Your people had been through so much, an army of their newly-dead friends and family would be more than they could bear, and you would never make anyone else perform this necessary duty, not if you were there to take that guilt for them. Merle had much to pay for, but you worried that negotiations would not go your way.


	4. Chapter 4

You stepped back behind the defensive barriers, wiping gore from your knife onto the leg of your pants, before sheathing the blade. Jamiel and Megan looked serious, Aja just looked angry. You could feel the concern rolling off all three, and the blame for that rested solely with you. None of you would get a chance to mourn the dead, not before Merle Dixon was finished being one hell of a thorn in everyone's backside. You hadn't dishonored the lost by dwelling on his offer while taking care of them, it wouldn't have been right, but looking at these people who had come to rely on you, the truth was plain. You had to accept the offer, and they had to get out.

"All right people, I know what you're going to say, but the truth is we should have moved along as soon as we evicted the Dixons. I knew what kind of an asshole Merle was, but I deluded myself into thinking he wouldn't be able to retaliate so quickly. I was wrong and the losses we have suffered are due to that. This is why I am going to recommend we take the offer. Sacrifice what goods and supplies we can afford, hand them over to Merle, with me. I'm not sure what he wants, but appeasing the bastard is our best bet. This will buy us some time, and with that time you need to move the settlement. Every last body."

Concern and rage flashed over familiar faces, but you couldn't let their emotions sway you. The decision had been made, and what was best for the group was often sacrifice on the part of the one. You reached forward, hand lightly resting on Megan's shoulder as you made eye contact with the members of your innermost circle. Only Chris wasn't here, but he and Jamiel were usually of one mind, so having one was as good as having both. "Moving the settlement is going to be a lot of work. We have young members, and less mobile individuals. It has to be done while there are still enough able-bodied adults to do the heavy lifting. A drawn-out fight with Merle and the scum he's managed to scrape off the bottom of the pond will ruin it all. I want four people on supplies, sorting out what we can spare for Dixon's crew, everyone else working on relocation. Chris, Jamiel, and I have been discussing possible retreats for months now, he's got directions to the most viable. Jamiel, Aja and Chris are in charge of the relocation planning. Are we good?"

In the time before, you had hated making speeches, taking charge, but it all came so naturally now. You'd gone from a quiet, fairly shy person to someone who could command, someone who understood the necessity of command. Others in the group were more inclined to be outspoken, and Aja made her case now. "What exactly do you think you're gonna tell that boy of yours, about you going away with Merle? He might be kitten-soft with you, but I don't think he will take it well. It wasn't that long ago that he snapped Jesse's arm like a twig, and all that fool man did was grab the boy's wrist."

You flinched, acknowledging that Gil still had a few rough edges. Still, he was a smart boy, and he understood the Greater Good. Jamiel frowned. "Aja has a point, and we're running out of time. Go talk to your foundling."

With a nod and a handshake for three of your closest friends in this apocalyptic nightmare, you turned and headed up for the nursery. The boy was almost a man, but you weren't sure that your 'sister' would or could take him along with her own kids, or that he'd even go. You paused, flagging down Adrienne. "Send Stace up to the nursery, will you?"

That covered, you bolstered your courage. Armies of the undead and negotiating with redneck assholes was one thing, but this? Aja had shaken you, and you couldn't let it show. You rapped three short bursts, two knocks, five knocks, two knocks again, on the door, signalling to those inside that you were friendly. The door edged open, the tip of your knife steady in Gil's hand as it came through the opening first. "Brain intact?"

"I have no urge to make a meal of anyone inside, and I'm alone." His strict adherence to the rules made you smile, and finally he opened the door.

"I didn't think it would clear up that fast, Momma." Too smart for his own good, the young man squinted at you, suspicion cooling the blue of his eyes until they were a steely grey. Sighing, you pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to figure out how to word what you had to say. Finally, you decided to give it to him straight. In this day and age, he might as well be an adult, so you should likely treat him as one.

"It was Merle and some rough looking characters. They came knocking on our weakest defenses, and they're much better armed than we are. He's letting us off in exchange for supplies and a prisoner, but we're abandoning the settlement. Chris and Jamiel are leading the arrangements to head closer to the city limits, but it's going to take some time to organize. That's the only reason we're acceding to any of his ridiculous demands."

Gil stepped closer, reaching for you, before pulling his hand away. A muscle twitched at his jawline, and his suspicious gaze turned into a full-on glare. "I guess you're going to be that prisoner?"

"I'm the leader, sweetness. If I won't stand up while my people get away, then I never deserved the title. Plus, Merle said it had to be me. Once I'm in, I can cause plenty of trouble in his camp. Don't worry yourself."

Just then Stace arrived, and you indicated the nursery. Eyes flicking between you and the boy you cared for like a son, she nodded, ducking inside and locking the door behind her. She'd watch the nursery until it was time to move the babies. From behind the door you heard the delighted calls of her children, happy to have their mother with them, even for a little while.

Gil headed for the door at a brisk pace, startling you so that it took a moment for you to gather your thoughts and catch up. "Where are you going?"

He laughed, a bitter, growly sound. More like the boy he had been when you found him than the young man he had been lately. "If you're going, I'm going. Two prisoners is better than one, and I will not be left behind again." He swung around, the power in his gaze intense despite his youth. "That or I'm heading out alone. You said you wouldn't leave me when you took me in, are you a liar?"

Another person was something that could be used as leverage against you, not really the most ideal scenario when walking willingly into enemy territory, but there was a fragility at the edges of the hard steel in the boy that stood before you. If you pushed it, you could lose him entirely, and he might lose the humanity you'd spent so much time trying to reclaim. "He might play us against one another, threaten to hurt one to get what he wants from the other. Are you prepared to live with that?"

"Hmph." A dismissive grunt was your only response, the tall boy still maintaining eye contact, every inch of him screaming challenge.

"I keep my word, but if he threatens to hurt you, I can't exchange the whole group to keep you safe. It will kill me, but I can't sacrifice so many."

"Don't be stupid. I know that."

Decision made, you fell in beside Gil, and the pair of you headed back to the border meeting with Merle. He wasn't going to like a change to his deal, but maybe it would leave him off-kilter enough to provide an opening. One thing you did know, if you got the chance you were going to kill him and every monster he'd brought to your door. Instinctively you reached out, and your adopted son, the feral child still fierce within his chest, reached out and held your hand. He wouldn't hesitate to slaughter his way out beside you. It was good.


End file.
